Page:Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature in Prose and Verse by Paul Selver.djvu/322

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Hearken: whirring, whirring, whirring Of the juniper's green windle, Of forget-me-not's blue spindle! Blossoms scatter waves of fragrance in this peaceful night. O enchantress, hither, hither: Now our troth we plight! Cricket from the grass is prying: See, O maiden, see! Where our bed is softly lying Gently spins the spider Fibres three.

I am in this dim, deep night-time All alone. Unto whom my joy to utter and my sorrow to bemoan? Prithee, drench with wet caresses, Dewdrop, wisps of elfin-tresses! Prithee, drench, thou radiant shimmer, Shepherd's-pouches with thy glimmer! I am singing, singing, singing starry rays. In my anguished breast have nestled all the glories that are May's: Every nook the wreath containeth, Every kiss the petal gaineth; Sweetest fragrance that in billowings arises, That is wafted, that is twirled in curving guises, That is rocking, that is swinging, To the moth's and insect's winging;